e wondered if he thought her
very absurd, but he did not leave her long in doubt.

"There's nothing to cry about, my dear," he said. "Your nerves were a
bit strung up after the tiger episode, that's all. They will quiet down
in a day or two. All the same"--his hand pressed a little--"I'm glad you
told me. A trouble shared is only half a trouble, is it? And I have a
right to all your troubles now."

He took her handkerchief, and dried her eyes with the utmost kindness;
then turned her face gently upwards.

"Is that quite all?" he asked.

She tried to smile, with quivering lips.

"Not quite?" he questioned. "Come, I may as well know, mayn't I?"

"I don't know that there is anything gained by telling you," she said.
"You never liked talking about your cases to me."

He frowned a little. "My dear girl, what particular case is it you have
on your mind?"

She hesitated. "You won't be vexed?"

"Vexed? No!" he said; but he continued to frown slightly
notwithstanding.

"I hope you won't be," Olga said, "because I simply can't argue about
it. Max, I sometimes think to myself that if--you hadn't known--and
Violet hadn't come to know--about--about her mother--things might have
been--very different."

"Meaning I should have fallen in love with her?" said Max.

She nodded. "It may be a breach of confidence, but--I think I'll tell
you now. Max, she cared for you."

She spoke the words with an effort, her eyes turned from him. Perhaps
she was afraid that she might encounter cynicism in the vigilant green
eyes, and she could not have endured it at that moment.

But at least there was none in his voice when he said: "Yes, I know she
did. That was what made her hate me so badly afterwards. I am very
sorry, Olga; but, for your comfort let me tell you this. I should
never--under any circumstances--have come to care for her. You won't
like me for saying it, but she was never more to me than a very
interesting case, and, apart from medical investigation, she would
simply not have existed so far as I was concerned. She didn't appeal to
me."

Olga winced a little. "Oh, Max, but she was so beautiful!" she urged
wistfully.

He made a slight gesture of impatience. "I don't dispute it. But what
of it? My brain is not the sort to be turned by beauty. There was too
much of it for my taste. She was exotic. That type of beauty gives me
indigestion."

Olga looked at him reproachfully. "You didn't like her, Max?"

"Not much," sai